


Piano Night

by ufp13



Series: hooker!verse [3]
Category: Nola (2003)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:10:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ufp13/pseuds/ufp13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A romantic evening at home. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piano Night

It had started as a simple romantic evening for two in her living room. All personnel excused or rather all other inhabitants of the house scared away, they had enjoyed a quiet, self-made dinner in the soft glow of the candle light. After dessert, sinful chocolate cake shared from one plate with two forks, she had expected them to cuddle on the couch, probably make slow love there, but was surprised – and pleasantly so – when he turned up the volume of the music that had quietly played in the background, adding to the mood, and asked her to dance.

He didn’t dance. At least, he normally didn’t, and she had resigned herself to the fate of not swaying over dance floors with him. That he indulged her love for dancing tonight, gently swirled her through the living room touched her.

“Just because” had been the reason for this evening – just because they could, just because they felt like it, just because they were together and enjoyed it, no matter what some people – especially his friends – thought of it. Just because, no special reason, not that they needed any, but he made it special, very special, starting with his request for a dance. And despite his dislike for it, he was good at dancing, swayed her around masterfully to the slow tunes. However, there was something he mastered even better: seduction. Her arms wound around his hips, her hands resting on his ass, she relished feeling him move, feeling the play of his muscles against her. His arms encircled her shoulders, holding her to him while his head leaned on hers, the scent of her hair filling his nostrils.

Without missing a step, his fingers reached for the zipper on her back and pulled it down. As much as he loved her in this red dress he had requested she wear tonight, he loved her out of it even more.

When she had first tried it on in the shop and had asked for his opinion, all he had said was “It’ll look good on the bedroom floor.” She had laughed out before kissing the lascivious grin off his face and buying the dress. She had yet to wear it outside for her last attempts had been boycotted by a cancellation of the event on short notice and him jumping her bones when she had sauntered down the stairs in it. He couldn’t help himself; she in this sexy red number had his hormones bouncing as if he was a horny teenaged boy.

When his fingers skimped over the bare skin of her back, she stumbled slightly, but he didn’t give her a chance to fall, pulled her along in the motion of a 180° turn. Still not ending the dance, he took her hands in his, guiding them to her sides to allow the dress, with an encouraging nudge, to slide down her body. Once it had hit the floor, he swirled them around again, then made her execute a full turn so he could admire her form clad only in crimson lace lingerie and black high-heeled stilettos. God, she was a magnificent woman who had the ability to make his heart jitter by simply being, and she belonged to him – a fact he still had a hard time believing occasionally. Whereas now wasn’t such a time, he nonetheless did what he always did to assure himself that this goddess was his. He reeled her in and claimed her mouth in a slow, deep kiss.

Grabbing the back of his head with both her hands, pressing closer against him, she deepened the connection, nudging his tongue with hers. The dance forgotten, they nibbled, sucked, teased while the last song faded to silence. As she held on to him, his fingers nimbly made short work of the fastening of her bra, then dancing over her bare back, drawing circles, hearts, abstract, curvy patterns. Softly, she hummed under his ministrations, a sound uniquely she, a sound of pleasure, a sound he enjoyed evoking, and almost literally melted against him.

As their lungs demanded they be granted more than short breaths of air, their owners separated reluctantly, her forehead resting against his heaving chest, his chin on her head. Making use of her relaxed state, he peeled her bra off. When the material fell to the floor, he could feel her smile against his chest. “Why is it always me ending up naked before you even take off one stitch?”

“First of all,” he breathed into her ear, “you aren’t completely naked yet.” He trailed a finger along the waistband of her panties. “And second, I love you naked in my arms. I love feeling your skin under my fingertips. Every inch of it. And I love the look as well. No matter how good clothes look on you, you look better without them.” His fingers caressed her back. “But for some strange reason, you insist on putting some on again and again. So I have to keep taking them off you again and again.”

“You’d want to share this view?” She pressed her body again him.

The growl that rumbled in his chest resounded in hers as he grabbed her buttocks hard, leaving his imprint on her skin. “Mine,” was all he said.

With some encouragement on his part, her panties glided down her legs while one of his hands teased her wetness from behind. A loud moan escaped her and deepened when Leo started to murmur into her ear again. “So nicely wet. I love having this effect on you.” He stroked her with able fingers, making use of the knowledge her had of her body. “But what I love most about it is tasting you, eating you.”

And the next moment, he suddenly left her cold, taking his hands off her and putting some distance between his mouth and her ear. She let out a sound of protest at being robbed of the stimuli.

“The music stopped,” he stated matter-of-factly

“Leo,” Margaret groaned. Who cared about music in a moment like that? She had been near floating under his touch, and he thought of music?! She couldn’t believe it.

“Yes, babe?” His shit-eating grin unnerved her even more. “Stop scowling. Although you’re cute when you scowl.” He placed a soft peck onto the tip of her nose. Another deadly glare was sent his way, but he only continued to smile at her and steered her in the direction of the piano. Still eyeing him questioningly, she enforcedly stumbled along backwards. When she bumped into the instrument, he pressed his body suggestively against her, kissed her deeply, making her hum again in joy before he slid his hands over, down her body to where her thighs gave away to her ass. “Put your hands on the piano,” he asked.

She opened her mouth to question him, his request, but obviously thought better of it for, after a moment she wordlessly did as she had been told. And a second later, she found herself hoisted onto the piano.

“Now,” he opened the lid of the clavier, “let’s make music.” Settling on the piano stool, he directed her to sit at the front in the middle, her legs dangling over the keyboard.

His hands trailed along her calves to her knees, propping her feet up on the clavier, spreading her legs wide, urging her hips a tad bit more to him.

Margaret was staring at him surprised, but her smile turned more and more lustful by the second as he kissed his way from her knees upward, accompanying the motion with the first soft sounds of the piano. Once he reached the apex of her legs, lapped her wetness, the music was flowing stronger.

Torn between the sight of his head buried between her thighs and giving herself over to the sensations without the added visual, the latter won out in the end. Closing her eyes, she leaned back on the black, cold surface, propped up on her forearms and let the music wind its spell around her. Hearing the tune, feeling it vibrating under her was as if his fingers were playing her and not the instrument beneath her. She hummed, content, aroused as his tongue circled her wet entrance, teased her clitoris. One part of her wished he’d hurry, stopped teasing and granted her body what it craved, the other part didn’t want the experience to ever end.

Leo was enjoying himself. His ego loved seeing this woman lose herself in her passion, loved being the cause for it, loved that this strong, independent woman belonged to him.

That her sounds, the feeling of her soft flesh sent jolts of need straight below his waistline had to be ignored for the time being because he had sworn to himself this evening would be for her. Why else would he have danced voluntarily if not for her? Although he had to admit that she felt wonderful moving in his arms, against him, worth ignoring his dislike for dancing. He was definitely, non-equivocally in love with her. There was no denying it. And for probably the first time in his life, he didn’t want to deny it, had even declared it aloud in front of his friends a few weeks ago. Since this evening gone bad, he hadn’t heard from either of them, but he didn’t regret his choice for even a second. While he had obviously underestimated the closed-mindedness of his friends, he hadn’t given up hope yet that they’d come around. They had hurt the woman who held his heart and thereby him. However, they all went way back, and knowing that his amazing woman didn’t really hold their reaction, their preconceptions against them – too used to behaviour like theirs – in addition to which she’d never make him choose, he was willing to give them a second chance if they were willing to rethink and apologise for their actions. But he would take his time contacting them, giving them all some time to cool down – at least as far as that topic of discussion was concerned because there was nothing cold about the current situation.

His beloved woman was clasping her thighs around his head while he stimulated her senses with his enthusiastic tongue and lips, rejoicing in her taste, and with the music his fingers drew from the piano. He had chosen a tune he knew by heart, could play when being only half-conscious, otherwise he’d have stumbled over too many notes, not that either of them would have really noticed or cared, but it might have destroyed the atmosphere.

Margaret was writhing fiercely by now, lost in her passion, a passion he relished; nothing like seeing, feeling your woman enjoying herself under your ministrations. She had given up her semi-upright position in favour of grabbing his head and holding his mouth in place, as if he had any intention of leaving this heavenly place between her legs any time soon. He loved this place, her silky thighs covering his ears, her hands buried in his hair, eliciting sensations of pain and blissful shudders by tugging at the strands, caressing his scalp, her juices coating his tongue, dominating his taste buds like the smell of her arousal his olfaction.

Working her sensitive flesh fervidly, nipping, sucking, caressing, licking, he drew louder and louder moans and groans and hums from her lips, intensified her writhing. Along with her approaching climax, Leo had the tune flowing into a crescendo, the music carrying her to the peak.

Slowing the music, he guided her down again with tender strokes of his tongue and lips. Her formerly bucking hips rested now motionlessly on the instrument, her heavy breathing mingled with the soft sounds that were ebbing away as he pressed the last keys.

A blissful smile on her lips, Margaret heaved herself into a sitting position with trembling arms. After she held his gaze for a long moment, she leaned down to capture his mouth in a deep kiss.

“Help me down,” she requested once they had parted.

Getting up, he assisted her off the piano, then pulled her against him, relishing the contact of her body, her skin under his hands.

While she rejoiced in his caresses, she felt his urgent need pressing against her front and decided it was time they turned the tables, time she took care of his pleasure. So she sneaked her hands between their bodies to free his erection from its confines before pushing him back down onto the piano stool.

His eyes clouded with arousal when her digits grazed his length, when she straddled him, knees on either side of him on the stool, when she slowly lowered herself on his hardness. Once seated, his cock fully enveloped by her wetness, she indulged herself by unbuttoning his shirt to bare his torso to her mouth and hands. However, for now, she crashed her lips to his, invaded his mouth with her tongue. His fingers clawed for her buttocks in the need to hold on to something as he returned the kiss with equal fervour.

Tempering the kiss into shorter ones first, she then trailed her lips along his jaw, down his neck where she lingered to suck his skin over his pulse point, leaving a mark of ownership. All the while, she occasionally clenched her inner walls around his erection, making him groan, speeding up his respiration and heartbeat, heightening his arousal.

Despite that high level of urgent need, he didn’t attempt to take over the lead of the situation, allowed her to take her time with him, went along with her pace. Admittedly, he loved being in charge of their encounters, but he was also in favour of equality, wouldn’t, couldn’t expect her to surrender to him, to trust him blindly – metaphorically as well as literally – if he didn’t reciprocate. Furthermore, he knew this sweet torture would have an even sweeter end. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t remain idle. He let go of her ass and ran his hand up her back, over her ribs to her breasts, cupping the supple flesh, kneading it, teasing her erect nipples. In turn, she lightly bit one of his, adding a hiss to the mixture of sounds.

As they continued to tease each other, Margaret began to slightly rock her hips to finally get to the point of bliss his body clearly screamed to be granted. To deny him much longer would have been cruel. Although it wasn’t unknown of her to punish him in such a fashion, she couldn’t do it tonight, not after all he had done for her, to her within the last hours. So she soon sped up the motion, bracing herself on his shoulders whereas he clung to the sides of the stool, mouth opened in moans, lids weakly half-closed, darting unfocussed between her chest, neck and jaw with occasional detours to where their bodies were joined. To the encouraging sounds of more or less clearly mumbled, moaned “God”s, “yeah”s and “babe”s – his usually vast variety of vocabulary had said bye-bye during the last half an hour – she rode him to completion.

Leaning against each other, they huddled up together on the stool, trying to catch their breaths.

“You,” his voice was hoarse, “are amazing, babe.” His fingertips whispered the shadow of a touch along her spine. For her skin was a lot more sensitive than normal, she shivered in reaction.

“Love ya,” he breathed into her hair against her neck.

For a moment, she cuddled closer, her wordless echo of his words, before she lifted herself onto her knees, causing him to slip from her in the process. However, when she wanted to climb off the stool, he grabbed her at the thighs. At her raised eyebrow, he only grinned and moved a hand to her front, to cup her wet sex, pushing a finger between her labia. Her frame trembled at the touch.

She would have been content with the way things were, he knew, but he could hardly ever resist the opportunity to make her come, enjoyed the sight too much to let this chance slip by. Fastening his lips to the underside of her left breast, he stroked her to climax once more.

Instead of getting up as he had intended to, she sank back onto his lap after he had left her weak-kneed again.

“Mine,” she murmured as she languidly ran her tongue over the hickey on his neck.

“Mine,” he echoed, sweeping a thumb over her breast where he had marked her similarly just a few minutes ago.

“As if anybody would want me,” she laughed simply because she knew he would growl in response, and she loved that sound. He didn’t disappoint. Shooting her an angry, disapproving glance, he let out a growl. Before he could say anything, though, she pressed her lips to his.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, wouldn’t want anybody else to have me.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Love you,” she, too, said the words they so rarely spoke aloud. He smiled lovingly at her.

“Bed?”

“Bed.”

While he stripped off his clothes, she blew out the last two candles.

Naked, hand in hand, the memories of the evening stored well in their hearts, they relocated to the bedroom, cuddling together under the covers for the night before routine would claim their attention again the next day.

= End =


End file.
